Chapter 312: Operating at the Limit [bonus]
As Voldemort drew close, Regulus made a decision: pull the Dark Awakening's traces back in.
That trick had been enough in front of Bellatrix. But before the thing's maker, to keep playing the part of a man corrupted by his own product was to bet that Voldemort's eyes were poor.
His eyes were very good.
Regulus sank his consciousness into the mental space and cracked open the isolation zone of the containment room.
The gray matter flowed back along the channels the Filtration Layer had set, peeling off his magic, receding from beneath his skin, gathering into the Isolation Zone, sealed shut.
Once the gray had drained clean, the look on his face folded back.
Those expressions from before, the flaring eyes, the smile that wasn't his, all of it had been an act. No need to reel it in piece by piece, no transition. Straight back into place.
Calm, composed, restrained. A little pride to finish, and it was perfect.
He was twelve. He'd just gone head-on and broken Bellatrix Lestrange, using a gift her own master had given her, and burned down her manor while he was at it.